Foresight
by bolgai
Summary: A new vampire wakes up in an abandoned cemetery not knowing who or what she is with only her visions of the future, instincts and hope to guide her. Follow her on her journey to becoming Alice Cullen.
1. Chapter 1 Waking Up

**Chapter 1**

**Visions**

At first there was nothing. No sounds, no smells, no colors, no textures, just pain that was burning through me with such an all-consuming fierceness that I could not tell who or what I was or if there was anything beyond the fire. Oddly enough the pain was somehow familiar, as if my very nerves and bones knew it, felt it before, and dealt with it out of habit. Time did not seem to pass either. I just was, existed in this stupor of self-observation through the sensation of pain.

Gradually the fire seemed to recede, as if it was sucked out of my core and into my fingers and toes until just the very tips were ablaze and then it was gone. I realized I was laying on the ground with a gentle breeze washing over my face, I kept my eyes closed, but the sounds and smells brought the world into my consciousness. Stone crumbling to the ground next to me, gentle creaking of wood and rustling of grass a little further away, leaves slowly falling with an almost inaudible swoosh still further and the stirring of a large animal furthest of all. I took in the earthy and somehow peaceful scent of the herbivore but before I could wonder how I knew it other fragrances distracted me. There was the wet aroma of dew and the mustiness of old tombs, centennial trees shedding their leaves and grass drying out. There was the warm dustiness of birds and the crispness of insects. Suddenly the wind changed and the other scents faded in comparison to this new smell. It was not fresh but while as strong as the others here it was alien and sickeningly full of death. The destruction in it made me recoil and the danger in it wiped out the peacefulness, and as my eyes snapped open I felt my body fly through the air into a defensive crouch. My eyes only confirmed what my other senses already discovered - I was in an old cemetery overgrown with weeds and crumbling, a forest around it. The silver crescent of the moon in the night sky gave almost no light but I could see everything perfectly and the pile of ashes in the middle of the graveyard drew me to it and repulsed at the same time. It looked like something crushed an entire oak tree into pieces and made an enormous bonfire, thin streams of smoke still rising from the center of it. While my mind was calculating how long it took this fire to go out I searched for the source of the smell still mingling with the scent of ash and could find nothing but some misshapen lumps of what looked like rock. Fighting the irrational disgust I reached out with one hand to pick up a piece but it collapsed into dust as soon as my fingers touched it, leaving a faint trace on my skin. No amount of curiosity was enough to make me try again but as I sniffed the dust on my hand the pungent odor confirmed my suspicions - this was what someone made such an effort to burn, whatever this was. Fires like this did not happen on their own, not when a centennial tree was ripped out of the ground for firewood.

I looked around more carefully now, listening, smelling. Nothing moved around me, nothing breathed, but it was clear that someone was here not too long ago, and they were not just passing through. The crypts were covered with great dents, as if boulders crashed into them; carved crosses were broken off at the ground and smashed into pieces. This was not natural for abandoned aging. There were deep ridges in the dirt with the black earth piled up at the end of each, as if something heavy slid there with force. What has happened here and how could I not have heard any of it? And how did I get here? And... who was I? Suddenly I felt so weak I had to sit down. The question rang in my head louder and louder until I clamped my hands over my ears, willing it to stop. I had to find out what happened here, this was about me just as much as it was about the pile of ashes surrounded by tombs. Suddenly the cemetery faded and a new picture appeared in front of my eyes.

The place I saw was not this graveyard but a river bank. Water flowed swiftly with a quiet murmur and birds sang in the distance. I looked up at the person next to me and marveled at his beauty as he quietly smiled down at me. I let my gaze linger on every feature, his high forehead, honey-blonde hair, straight nose, full lips and most incredibly his eyes. Adoration and happiness shone from their golden depths as if I was his entire world. We stood like that, gazing at each other for the longest time, sun reflecting off his pale skin and throwing rainbows around his face. In that moment I knew that I loved him endlessly and unconditionally, we belonged together until the end of time. In that moment I was happy.

The image warped and shifted and I was back to the cemetery, alone in its now eerie silence. Who was this man I loved so deeply and who loved me beyond any doubt? I was here all alone with nothing but the long dirty shirt I was wearing, he must be someone from my past or just a figment of my imagination. I saw in his eyes that he would not have abandoned me if he were real, so he must be only an illusion. The thought about my past brought back the questions and the resolve to find the answers. I concentrated on my memories, tracing them minute by minute, remembering every movement, smell and image, every thought and emotion, going back to the pain and the darkness and finally emptiness. Somehow there was nothing more. It was as if the blank naught stretched endlessly before my mind's eyes. There had to be something, I must belong somewhere, anywhere. I reached further and finally, when my head felt like it was going to split in two, caught a glimpse of a sound, faint but ringing with agonized sorrow. It was a man's voice, deep and melodic, shouting a name, as if reaching one last time. Alice. My heart beat faster at the memory. I was Alice, the man was calling to me. But why? I thought again of the stranger in my earlier vision. Could it have been him? The answer came as positively and as without proof as the certainty of my name – no, the suffering man was not the kind-eyed stranger, it was someone from my past. The love I saw was in the future, or in my imagination. I did not understand how I knew this any more than I understood how I knew anything, but it felt undeniable and so I accepted it as the truth.

In my reverie I did not notice that the sun was beginning to rise above the horizon. How odd. I watched the first rays of the sun chase away the shadows of the night, illuminating every withering blade of grass and making the tiniest motes of dust shimmer in the air but when they finally reached the edge of the crypt I was leaning against they made me freeze – there were rainbows dancing around my arm. My skin was stark white and it sparkled just like the skin of the man in my vision. With this discovery my conviction grew strong – he was real. The memory of happiness flooded my mind and I knew I had to find him. But where to start? With that thought the present faded away again and I was in a small diner with a narrow cobblestone street outside the rain-washed window. My seat at the counter gave me an unobstructed view of a man standing outside. Even with his back to me he looked remarkable with his posture full of confidence, strength and, curiously, restraint. He turned but I still could not see his face under the brim of his hat. He glanced around the empty street, hesitated for a moment and finally pushed the door open. When he entered his demeanor changed. Every movement grew even more restrained but now it also seemed like being inside the small warm room caused him pain. He removed his hat and blonde hair spilled around the pale face I have seen before. A smile spread across my face as I recognized him but as his gaze met mine only cautious calculation and curiosity shone in his now black eyes. I could not contain the happiness at seeing him again and jumping off my stool I almost skipped to his side. As though he could feel my joy his expression softened and a hint of a smile touched his lips.

At that precise moment his smiling face faded away once more and I a low frustrated growl reverberated in my chest. The sound of it swung the pendulum of my mood all the way to fury and while a part of me was amazed at how quickly I went from pure bliss to blinding rage another part was punching and stomping out everything within reach. My bare feet left deep holes in the ground, my fists crushed marble into dust and what was left from the unburned oak trunk creaked and exploded into splinters when my hand connected with it. Anger fizzled as instantly as it flared and I surveyed the damage. The destruction was more complete than what I found upon waking. In amazement I raised my hands to my eyes. There was not a hint of pain and not even the tiniest scratch on me anywhere. Slowly I folded my fingers into a fist and struck the nearest slab. The sound was like stone hitting stone and while I didn't feel much more than the fact of the impact the marble groaned, split into two and finally collapsed. If I could do this, what else was possible? Not knowing anything about myself was increasingly disturbing and I wanted to learn as much as I could and quickly. I looked around contemplating the next test and saw the crypt with its side crushed in. I picked up one of the halves of the monolith laying nearby and hesitated only for a moment to admire how feather-light it felt in my arms, even thought it was easily half my size and undoubtedly much more heavy. I flung it into the same crypt and with a thunderous crash it completely destroyed the structure. I grinned – this was so easy. I wondered how fast I could go and before the thought was completed in my head my feet broke into a sprint as if I were made to run. Tombs and crosses didn't slow me down, I leapt over them and kept going as if they weren't there. Before I knew it I was at the edge of the woods on the other side of the cemetery. The sensation was incredible, it was freedom I haven't imagined, as natural as breathing. I looked back at the thoroughly destroyed graveyard and the still-smoking pile of ashes in the middle. There was nothing more this place could offer me and to find my answers I had to leave. I had to find the quaint diner on the cobblestone-paved street.


	2. Chapter 2 First Kill

**Chapter 2**

**First Kill**

I ran through the forest until the sun was almost directly overhead but I did not feel tired. I reveled in the thought until a new sound caught my attention. It was a steady beat, similar to the faint thud I caught when I heard animals far off in the distance but not as deep. The closer I got the more appealing it became. When the breeze caught up with the sound I forgot everything else. The most delicious scent washed over me and made my mouth water, my stomach tighten and my throat burst into dry flames. The pain I was barely aware of before could not compare with the all consuming agony of what I could only describe as thirst. Before I knew it I was running low to the ground, giving myself over to the delicious scent that strengthened and became warmer with every stride I took. The steady beat grew louder as well and now I could also hear that it was… wet. The thrill of this realization shot through me and made my pace quicken. When it seemed that the scent couldn't get any stronger I spotted him. A young boy lay under a tree, his eyes closed and breathing even. He was sleeping. So delicious. Air vibrated with the beat of his heart and that was all I could hear. My lips curled over my teeth, my body coiled to spring. This will be almost too easy. I lunged out of the brush so quickly and quietly he didn't know what hit him. I barely knew what happened myself. There was no more thought, I was acting on pure instinct and my target was the warm, pulsating spot on his dirty neck, the place where the scent was most luscious.

He was the same size as me and muscular but his disoriented struggle lasted only a moment before my teeth cut through his skin and hot blood flooded my mouth. This was more satisfying than running faster than the wind, better than the joy I felt in my visions, more exciting than the thrill of strength. This was pure ecstasy. I drank till his feeble attempts to fight me off ceased, until his heart stopped beating, until there was no more blood in his lifeless body. I pushed myself off of him feeling stronger than ever, blood dripping from my chin and onto my ripped shirt. A smile spread over my face, a victorious, satisfied smile and I felt not even a pang of remorse as I glanced at his freckled round face and a crop of straw-colored hair. A predator feels no guilt over killing his intended prey.

The fresh aroma of his blood died with him but he left a trace of it on his way here. Now that I've tasted blood I recognized thirst for what it was and it grew until it became all I wanted. It was above the longing for my golden-eyed love and greater than the desire to discover what happened at the cemetery so I had no choice but to follow it.

Soon I reached the edge of the forest and stopped in the cover of the trees. Before me was a grass field with several cows and horses grazing. One by one they looked in my direction and gradually retreated toward the houses on the other side of the clearing, their hearts pumping with fear. It occurred to me that this is why I have not seen any animals on the way here – they sensed me and fled. Their instinct of self-preservation dictated that they escape. They could not know how little appeal they held for me. Past the houses was a river. I couldn't see it in the gulley but I could hear the splashing and smell the silt. And of course there were the ones I would hunt. I did not need to come any closer; I could hear the wet thudding of their hearts and smell their mouthwatering scent. They were so close and so easy to reach but it was still daylight and so I settled in the shade to watch and plan my next hunt.

By nightfall I have seen them all, male and female. One family caught my eye in particular, they were all short and lean with straw-colored hair and freckled faces. The female would stand on the door step and stare in my direction. At first her face was expectant, then angry and finally worried. They boy was her young and he was not coming back.

I stayed in the shadows, watching them, until the sun set. Now I wouldn't look too different as I approached them. My skin was still dazzlingly white, but at least now it didn't sparkle. Lost in comparisons I almost missed the male leave the house and head toward me. For a moment the purpose in his step made me wonder if I knew I was there. Ridiculous, I thought as I shook my head. He could not see me. As he got closer his scent grew stronger and soon all I had was instinct again. I stepped back into the brush and waited. No need to kill him in the open where someone might interfere. Not taking him right then was the hardest thing I've had to do.

The male passed quickly only a foot away from me and continued on as if I was not even there. Apparently humans could not sense me as animals could. Very lucky indeed. The lamp he held high swung back and forth, light dancing across the tree trunks and I could see the determination in his face. He called out his son's name every so often, his voice growing more urgent the further he went. Finally he swept the last of the brush aside and came into the small clearing where the boy's body laid bathed in moonlight. He would appear to be sleeping if only his eyes were not open, frozen forever with the look of horror in them. The man screamed and rushed to the boy's side. He collapsed on the ground and scooped up the cold corpse, mumbling "George, George, my boy" over and over. The man's entire frame was shaking with choked sobs as he held his son's body to his chest and rocked back and forth with it. Sorrow poured out of him in bursts of moans and curses and his face had twisted beyond recognition in a grimace of anguish. Sitting there with what used to be his son in his quivering arms, his shoulders hunched over, tears streaming down his face he was an ancient man who has lost his reason to live. But all his pain could not stop me. All I saw was prey whose blood could put out the fire that incinerated me from the inside.

It all took no more time than the struggle with the boy. This male was bigger and stronger but his body was still powerless under my stone arms, his skin giving in just as easily, his blood just as sweet. It wasn't enough though. I wanted more.

Several days and kills later the villagers armed with torches and hunting rifles came after me. They didn't know it was me they were looking for; they were prepared to see a wild beast, not someone the size of a child. This first time I didn't run. I hunted them and killed every one of them, draining three to the last drop. The others I simply left there with broken necks. It was almost too easy, knowing their every step and keeping to the course my vision showed me only hours before. I did not question it.

"Hey, where's Jim?" called out the last man in line, his black brows furrowed in confusion as he looked behind him.

"He was right behind you. Where'd he go?"The tall burly one walking before him stopped and turned around.

"He must've fallen behind. Not a good idea with whatever's in here, killing people," muttered a short man with a red mustache. The small group stopped, all of them searching the trees with their eyes, their guns at the ready and torches raised above their heads.

"Hey, Jim!"

Not a twig snapped in response.

"Jim, where are you?"

The leader doubled back to where they last saw the missing man. To them it was as if he had disappeared into thin air while I could still feel his warm blood on my lips. I watched them pace around until one wandered a bit too far into the trees and then he was gone too. I crouched on the low branch, listening to their hearts beating, smelling their breath and sweat laced with tobacco and beer, watching them move closer to me and away again. I could smell fear rising in them, it gave their blood an edge not unlike excitement but still sweeter. The leader made another step in my direction and for a moment the flame of his torch illuminated both our faces. Horror twisted his features but not a sound escaped him before I hauled him up off the ground and my teeth sliced thru his skin. I picked off the others one by one, silently, lighting-fast. I crushed their throats before they even had the impulse to scream. Mine was not burning any more, for now, and that was all that mattered. The last one saw me snap the neck of his comrade and fired. I watched him as his face lost the look of determination and became a mask of terror and shock as he saw the bullet flatten when it hit my skin. As I drank his blood I could see what he saw last, reflecting in his dark eyes and it truly was horrifying, even to me. There was nothing human in this face, lips curled over razor-sharp teeth, skin whiter than bone, crimson eyes burning with desire to kill. This was the face of death itself and it was mine.


	3. Chapter 3 Just Like Me

**Chapter 3**

**Just Like Me**

The forest was quiet around me, quieter than its usual cautious silence. Every time after I hunted it was as if everything died with my kill, as if every creature knew without a shadow of a doubt what they suspected all along – I was dangerous to anything that breathed. I was the most deadly of all predators and a very picky one at that. How many times did I marvel at this curious fact! What I ultimately craved was blood, the wonderful, warm, fragrant thirst quencher that it is and when I sensed a deer the heavy thudding of its heart would make my mouth water but the smell was almost repulsive. The scent of predators was slightly more appealing, but nothing could compare to the aroma of human blood. The sweetest, most delicious perfume of it made me forget where I was and only remember who I was and what I wanted. Sometimes I would listen to the animals, sometimes even watch them bleed and if I was thirsty enough I could feel the familiar tightening in the pit of my stomach, but the memory of human blood was always more powerful than this almost temptation. I wondered briefly whether if there were no humans around I would grow to want animal blood, halfheartedly entertaining the notion of hunting a mountain lion as an experiment of sorts, struggling to imagine what it would be like and finally waving the thought away. Why would I even consider something like this, there were plenty of humans around, why would I ever settle? As a last resort, may be, just as a hungry wolf could settle for a rabbit but never would if he could smell a herd of deer nearby. Man was meant for me, just like the deer was meant for the wolf, and that was the natural way of things.

Something distracted me from my reverie and I realized that I was sitting in my favorite tree, having forgotten to move or even to breathe. I was not sure how much time has passed, I could only tell that the moon was high in the sky. Before I could take a breath I recognized the sound of large paws softly moving across a tree limb. I knew that I've come into the territory of a mountain lion as soon as I first crossed his path but haven't seen him before tonight. Usually animals of any kind avoided me but this one was only feet away and there must be something attracting him more than my scent repelled. If he was anything like me his hunt has absorbed all of his attention and without any breeze to bring my smell to him he would not waver. Intrigued I stayed still as stone. He would run if I broke his concentration, or turn on me to protect his kill. I wanted to see him hunt and so I watched motionless.

I locked my gaze on the cat for a moment, his long tan body lean and strong, shoulder blades rising and falling as he crept down the branch, ears perked, nostrils flaring, mouth open and visibly watering. I followed his gaze and saw a small family of deer lying underneath the sprawling branches of the tree nearest to the cat. He was hunting.

They slept curled up and at first it was hard to tell where the calf ended and the doe began. The cat's ears twitched, I knew he was listening to the forest, registering the quiet rustling of leaves far off in the distance and creaking of trees, while his eyes never moved from his prey. He was so much like me in his unbreakable focus on the hunt, his eyes wild with the desire for their blood. I felt the breeze touch my face and knew it would be full of scents of the cat and the deer but dared not take a breath. The lion took another step and the branch he was standing on gave a barely-audible creak, he froze for a moment but the doe was already stirring. She raised her head and glanced back towards the sound, her ears trembling with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Her whole frame jerked and her heartbeat doubled its pace when she locked eyes with the cat and rousing her young she jumped away, her hoofs breaking the perfect silence of the night. The lion leapt off the branch and onto the spot that was still warm from the doe's belly, only inches from where the foal was still untangling his long legs and clumsily trying to get up. The mother darted forward to protect her young but it was too late. The lion's jaws locked on the foal's thin neck, bones crunched and his body went limp. The doe wheeled and sprinted off, there was nothing she could do. The hunt was over and I could breathe again. The smells of wet dirt, crushed grass and animal blood hit me all at the same time. The excitement of another predator's hunt thrilled me, the smell and sound of spilling blood, as unappealing as it was, made my mouth water and my throat burn all the more. The lion walked directly underneath my branch, dragging his kill, and I could hear the low satisfied purr growing in his throat, masking his slowing heartbeat. He was anticipating his meal and I knew I wanted to hunt myself. It has not even been a day since I killed last but seeing him hunt made me as thirsty as if I hadn't fed for a week. The wind shifted and brought with it the mouthwatering aroma of human. I allowed my instinct to take over and followed it to its source, a small house at the edge of a village.

I crept up to the window and peeked inside. The shutters were open and in the thin space between the simple curtains I saw a young girl in front of a mirror, holding a dress up to her chest, appraising the reflection in the glass by the light of a single lamp, a happy smile playing on her lips as she looked herself over. The dress was all white, as were the gloves and the hat laying on her bed and I guessed that they were for her wedding. I've seen a wedding once before. It was a lavish affair with horse-drawn carriages and flowers adorning every surface of a pillared mansion. I looked around the room and realized that this wedding was going to be completely different, although the bride would be just like that girl, blushing with dreamy embarrassment and impatient anticipation at the same time. The girl twirled once, the hem of her nightgown billowing out around her legs and sending a wave of warm air towards me. It was almost too much. I clamped my hand over my nose and mouth and stepped back before I could understand why I didn't simply go in and take her. I came here following her scent, I came to kill, but I couldn't. My mouth watered incessantly now, my throat burned as if it was truly on fire and all my muscles tightened, ready to strike. I should have killed her right then and there but looking in on this moment in her life made me curious to see more. She seemed so happy. She had someone who made her happy. I closed my eyes for a moment to help me concentrate and before I could think of anything else the darkness changed into a sunny morning, the girl was standing in front of a flowered arch, a preacher at her side, her family and friends watching on with happy tears in their eyes, and gazing at her with utter adoration was a freckled youth, his big calloused hands holding hers. She looked up at him just like I looked at my blond stranger and in that moment I knew that they were meant for each other, just like I was meant to be with the man of my dreams. This was her future and I would not take that away from her. I slowly opened my eyes and started to back away, wheeling around after just a few strides and sprinting for the woods as fast as my feet would carry me. As I was about to retreat into the brush I looked back and stole a glimpse of the girl still smiling at herself in front of the mirror, with no inkling of what almost happened.

I found my prey elsewhere, an old woman on the outskirts of town. She was dirty and alone, snoring loudly in a dark alley, the smell of wine almost as strong as the stench of her body and the scent of her blood. Never before did I think about who I hunted; now it pleased me that if I was going to kill it would be someone without ties, someone without a home or a family. How odd.

Minutes after finding her I already threw her corpse into the sewer like a rag doll and fled to the quiet familiarity of the forest. There I did not risk discovery and alarm as I did in town and while hunting was so much more abundant here I preferred to not have to kill without feeding. Spilling warm blood on the ground seemed like such a waste.

The blood has not yet dried up on my lips but my thoughts were already elsewhere. I could not rid myself of the memories of the girl and the lion, so unlike me in so many ways and yet just like me in every way that mattered.


	4. Chapter 4 Visions

**Chapter 4**

**Visions**

As I ran I thought of the summers just like this one, glorious in the greenery of the forest and the warmth of the sun. I did not keep track of how many of them there were. If winter did not come with such regularity I would not have even thought that time passed at all. Nothing in my existence ever changed, until now that is. I thought of the lion hunting in the depth of the woods and the young girl dreaming of her wedding day in a tiny room, they were nothing like each other and they were nothing like me and yet about both of them I thought that they were exactly like me, in their own ways. Were we really alike? The thought bothered me immensely and I struggled to find evidence in my memory to either confirm or disprove this idea, thinking back to that first fall. How many years was it, seven, ten? I was not sure. A long time, certainly, and only now I was beginning to pay attention to the creatures around me. I was suddenly angry with myself. How could I get so lost in my hunting and visions of hunting that I did not notice anything else, that I have completely forgotten to even think about finding out what happened back at the cemetery, to discover how I ended up there, to find my Jasper. The thought of his name thrilled me as it always did and for an instant softened the rage I felt towards myself. It was a good thing I did not appear to age, I thought bitterly. But what if he was not going to be looking for me anymore? I panicked and tried to remember the last time I had a vision of him. It wasn't too long ago, I thought with relief as I recalled the mildly distorted images from the first to the very last one, as I have done so many times. I would call them to mind in a continuous sequence any time I began to worry about the future or simply wanted to see him again, one precious bead of memory after another, as if running a finger over a priceless necklace time and time again.

I closed my eyes and replayed them all, first his beautiful face and the sounds of the river, then the stuffy diner and him smiling at me cautiously. These two were the most precious, the very first ones, the ones I came back to over and over again until the new ones were added to them.

In the next vision I saw him in the desert, he was a leader of a group of others and equal only to a diminutive dark-haired female, who he respected and esteemed, even loved. I felt a pang of jealousy over that vision every time I remembered it – he was with another. But he was not happy, I could see it in his crimson eyes, in the furrow of his brow, in the determination to endure that came through all too clearly in the set of his jaw. I saw him and another male, dark haired and burly but not as tall as the blond, they talked and there seemed to be something of a camaraderie between them. The dark-haired one called my blond dream Jasper.

A memory of another vision flooded in. It was night again and they were hunting, him and the female. He called her Maria but I did not like putting a name to that face. It made me feel things that were unlike the desire to kill my prey, I wanted to destroy her and this odd reaction was as powerful as the joy I felt at the mere thought of Jasper. They ran thru the empty streets of a dusty city devoid of trees or street lights, with ugly, squat building and not even a cat's mew or noise of a dog rummaging through the garbage disturbing the silence. This was not a regular hunt, they came to find new humans to join their coven and when they found one he left the female with the prey and retreated to keep watch. The image froze for a moment and when I saw them together again he was carrying an unconscious body in his arms, the small one's eyes burning with a crimson fire.

That picture faded and a new one took its place. It was night again but this time Jasper was with the burly one, returning from the desert to some ruins outside of town. They entered the crumbling structure and Jasper called out a name, Charlotte, at the sound of which his dark-haired companion jerked as if electrocuted. Jasper looked at him attentively, contemplating something I couldn't see with a wary look on his face, his stance becoming defensive, but then a dark-haired female came into view and the guarded expression on his face was replaced with a look of surprise.

"Peter?!" he whispered, gazing at his companion in astonishment and then at Charlotte, her gaze locked on Peter, and there was tenderness in her scarlet eyes.

"Run!" Peter yelled and when she took off almost flying he bolted after her. They disappeared in the dusty darkness and Jasper stared after them until not even a glimmer of white skin could be seen in the black night. When they were gone he turned around and resolutely peering into the depths of the building called out another name.

His deep, velvet voice was still ringing in my ears when a new vision replaced the one before it. He was in a cave this time, sitting on the rock floor with his arms on his knees, black eyes staring at the silver orb of the moon behind the cover of clouds in the starless sky. The expression on his face was almost pained and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if trying to grasp something out of his reach. A few steps away, against the wall, there were Peter and Charlotte, they looked at him expectantly. They had asked him a question and were waiting for his answer. Finally he turned his head to face them and nodded slowly. Just as slowly they nodded in return and moving without a sound the three of them left the cave and fled across the empty desert, leaving behind the mountain ridge and Maria with her coven.

I stood there for a moment until the last echo of the memory faded away, not wanting to let go of it, hoping that there would be a new one soon, and finally opened my eyes to the night of my own. The still air was full of the warm scent of fir and moss and wet dirt and summer rain and I enjoyed every damp breath as the scents filled my lungs. It was very quiet and I could hear the raindrops splatter on the leaves nearby. Suddenly I wanted to leave, go as far away from this place as I could get, away from the rain and the forest and the human girl who in one instant made my life so difficult and destroyed whatever cold and unemotional peace I had with myself. All of a sudden I cared about my human prey and for the life of me could not figure out how to deal with that. And so I took off running, choosing my direction to be the opposite of the way I've always gone before, away from the rising sun and the rain and the humans who I could still smell.


	5. Chapter 5 Running

**Chapter 5**

**Running**

I ran faster from that little house than I ever did, covering mile after mile. For all I knew I could have been flying, my feet barely touching the ground and wind whistling by. I ran west hoping that with distance I could leave behind the questions that was burning a hole in my head and made me feel like everything I've known and was familiar with up until now has changed and would never be the same. This unfamiliarity and self-doubt was what I wanted to run away from and so I flew through the forests, across mountain ridges and rivers, barreling through waters that were undisturbed until I came and scared away the fish.

Only when I couldn't smell the familiar trees and fields anymore and it seemed like I was in a different world altogether I stopped. There were no more mountains or centennial trees, the land was flat as far as the eye could see. I stood in the middle of the arid plain and breathed in the dusty air, for the first time noticing the dirt crunching on my teeth. I've run for days but didn't think I could come to a place so different from the lands on the other side of the mountains. There the air was heavy with moisture in the summer and if I went far enough East I could almost taste the tiniest droplets on my tongue and see the most beautiful ocean with sun pouring gold and red onto it in the earliest hours of the morning. Here it was just empty, flat, dusty and too warm for this early hour. There was nothing here, no people or animals. I stared back at the rising sun and was glad there were no humans – with nowhere to hide digging myself into a hole in the ground was the only option and I didn't have fond memories of it from the time or two that I had to do it.

I moved forward a bit slower until I saw a shadow of a farm of sorts against the horizon. I sniffed at the air cautiously and caught scents of six humans. Two adults and children, one a baby. I wanted to get closer, see what kind of humans they were, but stopped to listen to myself. The strange feelings left after my encounter with the girl, if one can call it that, were still there. I didn't want to kill this family and yet having not fed for days my mind was already conjuring up unhelpful and much too realistic memories of warm skin under my lips and flowing blood. I shook my head to chase the images away and walked forward.

The yard was all dirt with some fence around it. There was one emaciated-looking cow tied to a post outside a small barn, indifferently chewing on a bunch of straw. I couldn't tell what color were the barn or the cow originally, now they both were various shades of gray and brown. Some dirty chickens wandered around pecking at pebbles and bock-bocking at each other. A little further off, by the dirt road with more pot-holes in it than flat surface, stood a house in almost as poor a shape as the barn. The light was on in the open window. These people rose early.

I stole to the window as slowly as I could, more for their sake than mine. I wanted to be able to run if thirst got too strong. The familiar burning was tearing at my throat since the moment I caught their scent but I was curious and wondered in the back of my mind if satisfying my curiosity was worth the possible loss of their lives. I held my breath and looked in.

They were all sitting at the table, a girl trying to force some food into a younger boy's mouth and him turning his head one way and another until his sister threw the spoon down on the table in frustration. The mother stopped bouncing a baby on one knee and looked expectantly at her husband.

"I was thinking about us moving out west," he began.

"I saw Elmer yesterday, he said he's moving his family to California. Said there's good farming land there."

"But what about everything here? What are we going to do with the land, and the house and livestock?" His wife looked alarmed and clutched the baby to her chest.

"We can't feed the family by farming any more. Not here!" he shouted and stamped his palm on the table. The children quieted immediately, two boys frozen with both their hands on the last biscuit in the basket.

"We've talked about this, Mary," he continued after glancing up at the children who slowly resumed eating, albeit more quietly.

"We can work day and night but the land is spent, it's too dry and the winds are making it dryer by the day. We just can't grow anything here any more and there is no work in town. We have to go."

A heavy silence fell over the table, only the baby woke up and was now whimpering in his mother's arms. "So when do we go?" the woman finally whispered.

"Elmer said he'd ask around if there's a plot we can start out with or if there's work at a factory and would let me know right away. I'd have to go alone at first, get settled, and then I'll come get you all," he paused, "He thinks may be early next month."

"So soon?" The woman pulled the baby closer still.

The man pushed away from the table with both hands, his chair making a rough scraping noise on the uneven floor boards, and walked to the sink without looking at her again. I could not watch any longer, all I could think of was leaping through the window and sinking my teeth in his neck.

And again I ran.


	6. Chapter 6 Decisions

**Chapter 6**

**Decisions**

I couldn't help but think about the farmer's family and their future. They were going to a better place and I hoped they would find happiness. I wondered if they would even make it to this California, if their journey would be difficult. It was odd to think about things like that but I was getting used to thinking and feeling odd things. The days of an impassive observer were over, that much was obvious. Now I was awake to the world and there was no going back to simply drifting along with my mind registering people, places, seasons but never fully taking them in.

I thought of the only thing that stirred any kind of emotion in me before, the visions of Jasper, and in particular the one of us in the diner. I seemed alive in it. May be this was something that had to happen for me to be ready to face him and truly know what was happening. Was all of this meant to be or was I making it happen? It was difficult to tell. I saw us together and knew we would be happy even when I knew painfully little about myself, so somehow it was all to come together regardless of what I did. Then again, I was different in that vision, not at all the Alice of even a week ago. I thought of Jasper and how whenever I saw him he was at a crossroads, deciding which course to take. It was as if the decisions he made then shaped the decisions he would make in the future. Just like the first vision I ever had came after I made my first decision to find out how I came to be at that cemetery all alone. It was all about decisions, wasn't it? The choices we made were the key to the puzzle of my visions. The constant desiccated wind seemed to be bringing clarity with it and it was exhilarating. My mind was racing, if I had a heartbeat it would probably be as loud as that of humans when they were agitated. How did I not see this before? As quickly as my mind worked it was amazing how obtuse I could be. Well, better late than never.

After a while I was able to calm down and thought some more of Jasper. So far his choices were directing his path, bringing him to the place where he would make that last decision I've seen – whether to stay with Maria or to go with Peter and Charlotte. He was choosing the path away from the coven and since he was alone when we met that path that would bring us together. I felt a sudden pang of fear – what if he decides to stay with Peter and Charlotte instead of coming to meet me? Then of course he wouldn't. He was on his way right now, except that he didn't know it yet.

I spent the day in the desert, thinking, planning, wondering, and only when the sun completely disappeared behind the horizon and I knew that if anyone were to see me I wouldn't attract more attention than any stranger in a place like this, I dared to enter the town. It was just as brown and dirty as everything else. It was a miracle anything at all grew here and people were able to survive. Then again, they weren't. The farmer was taking his family to California just like others have already done, judging by boarded up windows and doors.

Everything smelled of humans and I couldn't pretend I wasn't thirsty any more. There was no use. Even in the desolate emptiness, despite all the thinking and wondering, the thirst was always there, nudging me to come here, burning my throat and making my insides squeeze in anticipation. Finally being here made it only more blatantly obvious. As much as I felt adverse to killing humans now, with all their futures and plans and possibilities, none of that changed what I was and they were still my prey.

I listened to the small town night, hoping for someone evil, homeless or old and alone so that me taking them would at the very least not make a bit of difference for the life of this town. I stood in the shadows of an alley, listening hard, until I was finally rewarded.

On the other side of town an old man lay in his bed, coughing the most terrible cough I have ever heard. It sounded as if all of his insides were being torn at by it and if he coughed one more time it would all come up through his throat and spill out. The awful sound of lungs strained and phlegm ripping away and moving in clumps. I've heard it before, only that time it was a homeless woman coughing and it wasn't quite as horrible. I knew he was suffering and as I moved closer to his house I heard his whispers and the whispers of his neighbors in the apartment below him. They wished he would either get better or die because sleeping with him coughing all night was impossible. He wished he would die sooner rather than later. He coughed again, groaning in pain and spitting up what I could smell was blood.

"Please, God, take me already," he moaned.

I was not God by any stretch of the imagination but this was invitation enough. I scaled the wall and slid into his bedroom, taking in the scant furniture and the frail human on the narrow bed. The stench of urine and sweat seemed to have precipitated on every surface and I couldn't imagine laying here day after day, smelling it. His nurse was negligent, if he had one at all lately. I stood over him for a moment. I wanted him to know I was there but dared not speak. He opened his pale blue eyes for the last time and as they focused on my face a weak smile tugged at his shriveled lips.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Minutes later I carried his body into the desert, away from the town and buried him deeper than I've ever hidden any body. No one will be looking for him, not really, but I wanted to be thorough this time. For what it was worth.

Having leveled the last boulder with the ground I dusted my clothes of the reddish dirt and looked around. There was something familiar in this barren landscape. It was as if I've seen it before. Not this precisely, but something very similar. The memory I was trying to pinpoint didn't have a picture quality, so it wasn't something I may have noticed in a human's house, it was shimmery somehow. Of course! I was really beginning to doubt my intellect at this point. This vista reminded me of my memories of Jasper when he was with Maria, the same dry expanse of flat ground and not much else. I supposed it was possible that I was near the place where he was at some time in the past. I wondered what would happen if I were to meet her, or someone who knew him, if they would tell me why he left. Then again, he left, there must have been a reason and I imagined Maria wasn't all too happy to lose one of her leaders. May be looking for her wasn't such a good idea after all.

I was still curious and couldn't help but wonder what would happen if we came face to face. But what if I could find out? I closed my eyes and thought of her, remembering as much in detail about her as I could. Picturing myself in a place helped see my future, may be I could see hers. I recreated the long black hair, the porcelain skin, the feverish crimson eyes, the full lips and the high cheekbones. I thought of her in a desert unlike this one, putting all my effort into it and… I couldn't see anything. She wasn't coming alive, she just stood there against the backdrop of a black sky and flat red dirt, just a picture. Frustrated I gave up. This wasn't working. I was trying to see the future of a person I have never even met and I could not. It couldn't be that this only worked for me, I could see Jasper. Very infrequently, granted, but I could see him. It was possible that she simply wasn't alive any more, though I could not imagine what it would take to kill someone like me. I realized that regardless of whether I could meet her or not I wanted to continue west. Knowing that in his lifetime Jasper was in this part of the world and now I could be there too thrilled me. I could be closer to him, even if indirectly, and as curious as I was mere curiosity wasn't enough to search for someone with whom your soul mate was unhappy.

I looked at the lightening sky and realized that I'd better find shelter, otherwise the local farmers might be too tempted to find out what was sparkling out in the desert and it couldn't possibly end well for them. I could think about this decision later.


	7. Chapter 7 Dust

**Chapter 7**

**Dust**

The wind never stopped blowing. It raked over the desiccated landscape taking with it whatever moisture was still left. It was a miracle there was anything to take at all, but I could feel it, the tiniest particles disappearing forever with the merciless wind. It took life, vitality, hope and replaced it with dust. There was a layer of fine brown powder on everything. The ground itself wasn't just hard rock, there was the dull film of dust covering it, swirling and running along the surface chasing the wind. The dust was in the very air, it crunched on my teeth, scraped down my throat and coated my lungs with the same fine film, except there it didn't swirl, but lay and grew thicker with every breath I took. I could imagine it filling me up until there was no more room, hard and heavy as a rock in my body, and held my breath unwilling to see this imagining come true. I could breathe when I had to. Unfortunately my eyes had to stay open, even though the dust collected between my lids and my eye balls and I had to blink it out or wipe it away with my fingers every so often.

I looked into the wind, toward the rising sun. Its warmth was growing even though it was still below the horizon. The black of the sky has faded to light gray and my skin was beginning to glow. Nothing a human would notice, but I could see it. I wondered briefly if enough sunlight could get through the ever-present dust to make it sparkle. It probably could. I could still see the sky, despite the swirling particles. It was time to look for shelter and the town wouldn't do. I've seen enough towns to know that children could not resist the opportunity to sneak into the abandoned buildings and would be equally incapable of not talking about a strange pale girl with red eyes waiting out the day in the darkest corner. No, the town would not do. I needed something different but couldn't see clearly enough. Would have to breathe after all. I never fully realized how crucial my sense of smell was, it filled in the blanks and gave me knowledge my eyes couldn't provide. It would be difficult to underestimate it again.

I took a small reluctant breath and the wind gave me something one more time. It was a faint hint of old wood and machine oil and dried manure and human sweat, all covered by the smell of dirt. Only the wood smell was strong, the others were just traces. Something that has been there before but was gone now. An abandoned farm, I guessed. Just what I needed. Gratitude to the wind was beginning to grow in me, as strange as that sounded. Earlier it gave me clarity, now it gave me shelter. It might be an enemy to everything else here but wind was becoming an unlikely ally to me and that was more than I usually had.

I found it just before the sunrise, an old farmhouse with a fence just as old around it. It was far away from town for the nosy kids to stay away and far away from the road for anyone to stop by to check on things. This would do just fine.

I leapt over the fence laden so heavy with dust-filled tumbleweeds that even the dirt drifts half-way to the top couldn't keep it up straight and headed toward the house. It was a long thin building, board and batten, with a washed roof on it. The yard must have been littered with farm things back in the day, now only a rim of a wheel and a handle of an old plow stuck out, the rest covered by dirt. The dirt came up right to the front door with support pillars for the porch looking like they grew out if the ground. I wondered how they built it like that. The door was boarded up, just like the windows, but once the boards were gone I found it unlocked. It opened with a slight creak into the house's only room, empty save for bits of rope laying here and there on the floor and a thin book abandoned on the windowsill. The only piece of furniture was a bulky old rocking chair. It must not have fit in the wagon or car and was left behind to gather dust. Literally, in this case. Despite the boarded up windows the brown powder coated every inch of every surface and my feet made tracks in it for the first time in what must have been months.

I made a circle around the room, from the door to the sink, to the window with the book on the sill, to the farthest corner with some shelves on the wall and back to the chair in the front by the other window. Sitting down I flipped the book to the front page and read the title. Farmer's Almanac. 1933. It must have been read over and over. The binding was almost destroyed and some of the dog-eared pages threatened to fall out. There were recipes and farming advice and months worth of weather predictions. This book promised no rain for all 16 of them. It seemed impossible. Back east it would rain several times a week on occasion, and here not a drop for over a year? No wonder these people left, no wonder the farmer was taking his family West to California.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of a change outside. Something was different, wrong. The nature itself was wrong. I was still sitting in the chair but the picture in front of my eyes wasn't the yellowed pages of an old book, it was a dark cloud rolling towards me, horrified screams of birds and the world outside of this little house disappearing into the blackness where nothing existed. I have never seen anything like it. I sprung out of the chair letting the book drop, raising a small cloud of dust as it flopped on the floor, and rushed to the door. The wind was stronger and colder. It was almost like the coolness before the rain but without the promise of rain. I breathed in the dusty air and it was as dry as ever. Then I saw it, the thinnest line where the sky meets the earth, black and growing, taking up more and more space. I remembered the horror of just seconds before, of what it would do when it got here and wanted to run to the town and warn the people who couldn't see or feel it coming. I wanted to tell them to take their children and hide in the cellars and not come out for anything but I couldn't. There was nothing I could do to save these humans or even warn them and this helplessness was enraging. I was furious at them for being so frail and at the nature for being what it was with no consideration for their frailty and at myself for being the only one who knew and the only one who could do nothing about it.

I stood in front of the house, door ajar behind me, and watched the black line become a cloud as wide as the horizon. It billowed in the middle and curved around on the edges, hugging the land in front of it, making sure nothing escaped its black arms. The birds flew ahead of it, frantically flapping their wings, screaming in fright, some falling to the ground in exhaustion. Those not fast enough disappeared in the black embrace, which by now covered a third of the sky. The wind picked up and brought more dust with it, flinging it at me. It felt like thousands of diminutive bullets hitting at the same time. A little bit longer and two thirds of the sky were gone, as if it never existed. Another minute and the fence disappeared, tumbleweeds and all, swallowed up by the boiling blackness. Another thirty seconds and the dust hit me full force, slamming into my body, almost strong enough to make me fall. It ripped at my clothes and filled my ears, tried to go up my nose and blinded me. Now it felt like millions of miniature bullets shot at point blank range, stinging, trying to blast away my skin. I ran back to the house, and slammed the door shut behind me, locking the deadbolt. Hopefully this would be enough to keep the door on the hinges.

The wind howled and ripped at the house now, blowing into every smallest crack, making it bigger, forcing its way in. The old boards creaked and groaned , I looked out the window through a hole in the board covering it up and couldn't see a thing. It was like the house and I were in the middle of the blackest night and it wasn't just around us but we were actually in it, where no light could penetrate, with no way out and no hope for survival. Suddenly I felt cold, but not wintery cold. This cold came from within me, it chilled my very core and paralyzed me for a second. I felt my face freeze into a mask I've seen on the faces of humans so often. It was terror that had its claws in me, spreading out from inside and freezing me in place. Up until now anything I faced was powerless before me. Guns, knives, rocks, ocean, wild beasts many times my size. I was too hard, too impenetrable, too invincible for it all. This was bigger and more deadly than anything else I've encountered so far. I understood the drifts of dust by the buildings and the fences, the almost completely covered plow in the front yard and the dirt coming up to the threshold. How long would this storm last? I didn't want to end up like that plow, buried in this house forever. I didn't need to breathe, but I needed to feed. Would thirst eventually kill me if I were trapped here, if I couldn't dig myself out in time?

The dust and sand slammed into the house, threatening to rip it out of the ground. I could hear the roof creaking under the added weight. What if it collapsed? I didn't want to be trapped here in this desert of a land, all alone. And what about Jasper? Would he be looking for me not even knowing that he was and not being able to find me? My dream, my soul mate seemed so far away now, so alone and so out of reach that I couldn't bear the thought. My throat closed up in a spasm and I couldn't breathe even if I wanted to. There was a dull pain in my chest, like something squeezed it from inside and wouldn't let go. What was going on with me? First fear now this? I drew in a shallow, ragged breath and a dry sob escaped my throat. I was crying, just like a human. At least I could be crying, if there were tears. Even though my body was indestructible, inside we were the same. My heart didn't beat but it was still there. I could feel and suffer and care about others and if that wasn't humanity I didn't know what was.

The storm blew the entire day. Its dark reminded me of the very bottom of the ocean, where no fish ever came. At least this dark wasn't heavy like that one. By the time it passed over it was night. I could see the sky again with stars shining timidly through the dust still swirling in the air. It was quiet outside. Dead quiet except for the scraping of grains of sand against each other on the ground, tiny particles swirling and rolling after the departing wind. I went back to the town. It was even dirtier and dustier than before but there was no death for me to sense. They all hid in time and now were coming out of their cellars, carrying their sleeping children, talking in whispers. They all looked tired and wary of what they would find and what the next day would bring, but there was also resolve in their faces, in their postures. They were going to get through this, they were not giving up, they were not leaving. They would continue on, they would survive and they would build a better future for themselves. I watched them go back to their homes and respect swelled within me for their courage and for their strength. No longer were they weak, expendable prey to me. As different from them as I was like them at the same time and I was proud of it.


	8. Chapter 8 Death

**Chapter 8**

**Death**

I didn't intend to stay long. The wind and the dust were wearing on me, as used as I was to clean air and green forests and despite my flaring thirst I could not feed again in this small town. The disappearance of the old man put everyone on edge, mothers did not let children out of their sight, men kept weapons within an arm's reach even when they went to sleep. They were all watching for an animal, something that could climb into a second storey of a building and escape with a man without making a sound.

In turn I watched them. They were like bows made of young wood, flexing with the blows but never breaking, springing back into place, a little more tired, a little more scarred but ready for the next hit. I could not resist watching them and one early morning crept into the town and hid in the attic of an abandoned house. It overlooked the main street, the only street really, and I could see them without them seeing me.

The attic smelled like dust and musk and dried rat droppings. The humans were gone but their scents still lingered, tempting but not irresistible. _This is good, _I thought, _maybe I'll get used to the scent like this, gradually._ The morning came and as the town woke up and the street grew busier I began to doubt the sanity of this enterprise. Wind brought new smells every second and even thought I haven't taken a fresh breath since sunrise soon I was digging my fingers into the wood and clawing up fistfuls of pulp. I couldn't smell them but I _knew_ what the air smelled like around me, I could feel the particles of dust settling in my nose and I _knew_ what they smelled like. And I could see and hear. The humans down on the street were pale and worn, their hair and skin dull from the dry wind but their hearts were pumping, blood was rushing through their veins and I could see their pulses beating in their temples, in their necks, in their arms. It was unbearable and if I could scream without risking my secrecy I would have wailed just to drown out the sounds and take my mind off of what I saw.

The slow flow of the morning was interrupted when one of the doors opened with a creak and a man stepped out, resolve in the furrow of his bushy eyebrows. He looked so much like the farmer in his flannel shirt and heavy boots. The townsfolk stopped and watched him carry suitcases out of the house into a car, bundle after bundle he carried until there was no more space on the roof and the back seat was half full. A woman stepped out, her eyes red, but not a hair out of place and her mouth set into a thin line. She too was resolute; I could see it in her squared thin shoulders. A small boy trailed after her, holding a cat around the midriff, its gray tail dangling to the ground. The man finished carrying the packages and with a nod at his wife and the boy he climbed into the car. They took their seats, the woman staring straight ahead, the child looking around for his friends, stretching to see over a huge suitcase in the seat next to him. The street was full by now, neighbors coming out to watch one of their own leave. They did not exchange farewells, they only looked on somberly as the car pulled away leaving a cloud of dust behind it and stood watching until the dark outline disappeared and the sound of the engine died away. It was eerily quiet and I wondered why nobody said a word, why nobody hugged and wished them a safe journey, why some glares were so disapproving. Finally only an old man remained in the street, watching as the dust settled. He shook his head as if disappointed and muttered "Another one leaving, giving up. Soon everyone will be gone" as he shuffled back into his empty store. Across the street a woman stood in the window, looking down the road after her former neighbors, a wistful look on her face, as if she wished she was with them. She sighed and pulling the curtain closed stepped back into the room. Apparently not everyone disapproved.

The distraction of the departure didn't last long but I was grateful for it, it took my thoughts off the smells and pulsating necks. I wondered what California was like, what was out that way, if it was like where I came from. I imagined that it was, with thick forests and mountains and clear streams. Before long the pictures in my mind changed and they weren't of pines and soft grass. The trees in the vision were enormous, twenty of me couldn't have hugged one around, and it towered so high the clouds surely touched the top as they sailed by. It was night and it smelled of ancient ferns and bears. I wasn't alone but this was not a peaceful companionship. It was like sitting with a mountain lion who was preparing to strike. The female a little distance away was tall and willowy, her long hair silver in the moonlight. She regarded me thoughtfully, her crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion. I wasn't watching her though, my eyes closed, hands gripping the edge of the hollowed out cave in the middle of the tree. I was waiting for her to decide.

A noise broke into my vision, too sharp and desperate for the calm of the ancient forest. It was a woman screaming, her broken-hearted cry cutting into the humdrum of the day. The window across the street flew open and the woman I saw earlier appeared again, her face contorted with panic and grief, her mouth a gaping hole as she called for help. As she almost fell back into the room I could see a crib in the back of it. The damp sheet that must have been covering it until a minute ago was pulled back and I glimpsed the ashen face of an infant staring at the string of toys suspended above it with unseeing eyes. The woman sank to the floor next to the crib, her full-voiced cries shaking her frame. Finally an older woman came running up the street and rushed into the house. For a second I couldn't see her and then she reappeared again, hugging the young mother away from the crib with one arm and pulling the sheet back over it, hiding the still body of her child with another. The younger woman clung to the older one with the desperation of someone drowning, clutching her clothes and dragging them both down to the floor.

"He's gone," she cried, "gone. I felt it, that he was going to die and he wouldn't listen, he wouldn't take us away and now my boy is gone." I could hardly understand what she was saying through the uncontrollable sobs, but words didn't matter. She could have said nothing and I still would've known she had lost her heart.

A man crashed into the room, his eyes darting from the two women on the floor to the covered crib and back. In two steps he was across the room, pulling the sheet away and with only one look at the tiny body he turned just as white as the corpse. The mother flew up and slammed into him. She beat him with her little fists, screaming "I asked you to go and you wouldn't and now look at our baby! You killed our baby!" and he just stood there, his big calloused arms hanging by his sides. He looked like he had no strength to do anything but stand without moving.

The neighbors looked out of the windows and seemed to know what happened without having to ask. Women hurriedly wiped tears from their eyes, men sighed and shook their heads. The old man I saw earlier today looked up from his seat in the empty store, his shoulders hunching a little more than before. "They will go now," was all he said.

I could not stay in this town any longer. The grief was too much. Leaving wasn't something I wanted to do any longer, in the span of these few minutes it became something I had to do. I didn't look out any more but the rest of the day was still filled with faces and scents. They weren't live and breathing, not anymore anyway. They were faces of those I've killed. Sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. Some begged for mercy, some screamed, some were so terrified that not a sound escaped their lips but they all were someone to somebody and now I saw what was on the other end of my thirst. I saw grief before but then it did not matter. They were all nothing more than food then. Now they were people.

As soon as the streets were dark and quiet again I fled the little town, leaving behind the coughing and the sobs and the wind and the ever-present dust. I headed west, hoping that if I didn't hear these people any more I would almost forget them just like I could almost forget all the ones I saw before them. I ran as fast as the wind, went as far as the nights would take me, but I could still see the little woman pounding on her husband's chest, her tear-stained face looking up at him with the kind of desperation I have never seen before and him staring at the lifeless body of his child with eyes just as lifeless. I knew they would always stay with me no matter how far I went. They would always remind me why I didn't want to kill any more.


End file.
